Parental Bastards

Being a parent doesn't mean you have to stop walking around naked. You just have to get used to people screaming in horror just because you entered the room.

Sunday Bastards

"Oooh yeah," I said to my peeing dog as I stood in my boxer-briefs after six or so cars drove by and some of that awkward sort of eye contact was exchanged, "Church."

Childish Bastards

I live across the street from an elementary school. I don't have central air so that means the windows are often open and there is no question if it is a school day. There are kids playing, always.

Sitting in our bedroom, Mrs. Bastard and I looked up at the same time as the shrill screaming went on long enough to capture our already-tuning-you-out attention.

"There's always that kid who thinks screaming is fun," I said.

"Ugh, I think I was that kid." She admitted.

"Good think we didn't meet in elementary school."

She agreed. It wouldn't have worked.

Serious Bastards

An actual exchange I had at work while manning the facebook chat with a random nerd. This is the first time he contacted us:

Random person: Do you guys buy Magic the Gathering cards?

Me: We do. Bring your cards in and we fill out a form. We have a guy who prices them (who is not me), he usually get back to you within a day or two with an offer for store credit or cash.

Random Person: What do you think my collection is worth?

Me: You would have to bring them in to get that answered by our guy who knows Magic cards.

Random Person: Could I just tell you what I have?

Me: You could, but again, I am not familiar with Magic cards. You're going to have to bring them in. Have a good day.

-

Here's the thing about some of the people who play Magic--they do not care in the least that I don't play. They are still going to tell me about their cards and why they are awesome in the combination they have arranged.

If someone asks, "Do you play Magic?" that means I am about to hear about deck arrangements no matter what I say.

"God, no! Can't stand the game. The people who play it are even worse."

"Yeah? Well, my red-blue deck is defense heavy but if I can get this one artifact out and in play..."

Bastard of a Mood

I know I am a certain kind of a mood when I am annoyed I can't take my dog to work with me. It's not the kind of mood where I tell myself, "Go ahead! Speak your mind! Good things will come from your honesty."

Maybe the guy who get's a call from his wife won't come in today. Every time he comes in he drools over the cards behind the glass, his wife calls and the its:

"I'm at the bowling alley!" (there's only one in town and it is notorious for it's shoddy cellular service. If you ask if what the WiFi password is, the answer is "Ha!"

"I told you I have to stop at the bank first!" (the store is right next to the bank).

"I've hit every red light. I'm like three minutes away." I suspect he lives fairly close.

He always pays cash. When I offer a receipt he laughs and says to burn the evidence. He tries to joke about his wife being a ball buster. Today is not the day to point out he has something to do with that.

A lot of dysfunction walks through the door--we're open to the public after all but on days when I'm already low on energy it takes a lot more out of me to bare witness to it all let alone help them with their purchases.

Here is your $12 Magic card. A game meant to be fun and not to foster resentment between people. And it's no problem, I'll burn the receipt.

Foolish Bastards

Last year my April Fool's joke was not bad. I posted on facebook, "Guess who's going to be a grandpa?"

I thought it was hilarious. But then again everyone in my family called my high school daughter for any and all confirmations.

I think I'll give it at least another year to see what she thinks. Hindsight is 20/20 and part of the clarity is seeing the hilarity you missed that first go round because you had to tell both of your grandmas (and a couple of aunts, uncles and nosy cousins) three times you weren't knocked up as well as swear many oaths attesting to the fact.

Such is the Bastard Himself!

Hey look at all these posts!

And all in one month no less.

I'd be lying if I said I knew what I was doing with this blog. My current goal is not to overthink it. Just write stuff and post it.

Weeee!

Busy Busy

I had a plan for St. Patrick's day to write up some expectations for the evening working at the bar--one of two in the little town I dwell. I like that bars exist but I've never really hung out in one previous to working at one.

I don't go into work until 7pm. I had lots of time before work and I was playing catch with my son in the back yard, pondering the evening. The backyard has flagstone which has extremely sharp edges so when my son went down on one knee it was no wonder it split it open. From across the yard I knew it would be stitches.

"Eww! Gross!" My 12-year old half-bastard said when he looked at his knee. I ruffled his hair and told him we were going to see the doctor. The gash was severe enough it required five deep stitches before ten normal stitches.

The admitting nurse and the doctor had different opinions about the wound. The nurse asked us if we we had a knee brace at home. He was peering into the separated knee-flesh with a worried look. "Like one that doesn't let your knee bend?" He looked up to make sure he had my wife and I's attention. "Movement is going to be an issue."

So when the doc came in all smiley and happy I was thinking of ways to keep a 12 year old boy from bending his knee. I would definitely have to hid his skateboard The doctor sewed him up while I envisioned the stitches popping at the seems. Ambulance rides. Emergency knee saving surgery.

When the doctor was finished he told my son to move leg. "Go ahead. Bend it."

My son tentatively lifted his leg. There was fear scared.

"Come on! Your skin is rubbery. You're not going to pop anything." He pushed my kid's foot up to demonstrate and get the show on the road.

"You're going to want to move it around. Jog some but maybe hold off on full speed running."

"So no brace required?" I asked.

"What? No, no, no. You're going to want to limit any activity where falling is a real possibility, keep the wound as clean and as dry as possible but let it breathe." He pointed at the boy. "Take quick showers too."

The doctor left and the same nurse came in to bandage and wrap up my son's knee. "No brace required." I said.

"That's good." He said. "You're lucky."

I knew myself well enough to leave it at that. I was irritated past the point of saying something constructive to the point of waiting for the doctor to be the doctor and if he wanted to flap his nurse mouth he needed to seek more schooling. Working with teenagers I saw plenty of stitch-requiring wounds and it didn't phase me. It was just something to take care of. Seeing my son's blood coming from a deep, fatty-tissue exposing cut was different. It was more charged.

Later I was able to tell myself the nurse was probably doing his best he could. His intention was most likely to help. He had no way of knowing what my brain would do with the information, inaccurate at it may have been.

The experience did help me with the shit-crazy night at the bar where I was no allowed to drink--even though I am Irish. I was able to remind myself how not punching the dude in the face was the right choice then and it was probably the right choice with Drunky McDrunk.

Helpful Bastard

I use Avast Antivirus software. It's free and seems to be effective. I had a little pop-up window this morning asking if I'd take a survey.

Why not?

I clicked it and a message thanked me for participating and instructed me to click continue to continue.

QUESTION ONE:

Do you connect to public WIFI (like in coffee shops and such?)

Yes [ ]
No  [ ]

My computer is a very old laptop that I use to write on. I don't write in public or really take my laptop out of the house.

I clicked "No."

THANK YOU FOR TAKING OUR SURVEY! Avast Appreciates your time.

Don't mention it Avast. Glad I could contribute to the data.

Scammy Bastards

I am fairly neutral to Game Stop and their business model best reflected here:

(c)the internet

But I went there today and ended up making a purchase. I went home and decided to do the silly little survey that ask you to do on the receipt. I gave the employee all fives. All the company wants is all fives. The question that always gets me:

I showed them! I bought something else! I have to hope that they care they could have had more of my money.

My Kind of Bastard: Moon Knight

Catching Up with Moon Knight

I will let the issues of a series stack up for a couple of reasons. Sometimes I know it’s better for me so I can read it all together. Comic stories tend to have arcs that can feel conclusive; one ends as another starts…often in the same issue. This will be record of getting caught up all in one marathon session.

Marc Spector, aka Moon Knight is not a bastard born. He is an honorary bastard.

One of the reasons I like Moon Knight is that he is pretty unaffiliated. He's not an Avenger. He doesn't hang out with the X-men or the Inhumans. He does his own thing and you don't have to worry about team ups (generally). The big cross-over events that span so many books tend to skip over Moon Knight and it allows a certain kind of focus not enjoyed but other characters.

With Moon Knight's current run of which there are twelve issues published, I missed #9, which I got today. My family was running some errands and with the house to myself all I had to worry about was my dog sticking his face in my lap and licking the cover. I pulled out issues 10-12 as well as #8 and got to reading.

# 8. Re-read but a good idea. Moon Knight has three stories going on and it creates a nice sense of madness in which you’re never quite sure what’s real or going on. Issue nine is part 4 of 4.

#9 is part 4 of 4 but ends with the words “to be continued.” Some questions are answered (enough to call it part four) but I feel for the fans who had to wait a month for the next one, which might maybe possibly wrap it all up.

#10 starts off with a nice kick in the balls, so to speak. Part one of five. This is the third arc of this Moon Knight run but it’s all connected. It bodes well, though and so far I intend to see it through to the end.

#11 Death and Birth part two of five (arc 3)or is that III?))
More good writing and great artwork, a near perfect one-two combination of comic book execution. Marc’s battle for sanity, or at the least less insanity, continues in the overvoid in this chaotic but intelligible issue.

#12. There. I’m in the same boat as the rest of you. Two issues away from maybe possibly a conclusion? But, hey, it is a comic book. This issue nicely pushes the collection of the Marc and Moon Knights’ story forward with just a hint of a villain.

So there. I don't see why this run is broken into three different story arcs but what do I know? I wouldn't recommend starting this run anywhere but issue 1. There are some series you can jump into and pick up the story quickly within an issue or three. I feel like this would be hard with Moon Knight which continues to be one of my favorites.

Mar10

It's National Mario Day!

I learned all I needed too HERE.

Basically March 10th is abbreviated Mar 10, which looks like Mario. Clevah, clevah! It's not May the Fourth be with you but hey, according to that-there link,there are over 1200 "national" holidays. They can't all be home run touchdown GOOOAAAALS!

So, why not. Wear red and blue. Play some Mario. Be nice to a plumber and his lesser known brother. It's Mario Day.

Dear Google

Make a meme-search engine.

That is all.

Sincerely,

The Bastard Himself

Nerdy Bastard

Comic Review!

Started Wednesday March 1, 2017

Bastards like comics. I don’t want to start a new blog so I’m putting these up to feel better about writing it all down.

The nerd store I work in sells a variety of nerdy paraphernalia. I’m in good with the comic crowd and after talking comics with my people I am a little resentful having to wait until I get home to start in on my comics. Today I had quiet on my side.

First Thing I Read When I Got Home:

Shade the Changing Girl #6 Good read. #5 ends in a cliffhanger and this issue took right off. There is a lot of fun potential building up and drama is sure to ensue. Shade is her own worse enemy and this issue sets up what is sure to be quite the rivalry.

Bullseye #2 Ah, Bullseye, what a bastard. Just enough story to present Bullseye as the murderous jerk he is—but also provides a mission, the rescue-my-son-sort no less, and that coupled with sociopathic code make for a very entertaining read.

Extremities #1 Oh my yes please. This issue comes at the reader flexing and showing off all it’s mighty potential. I’m not a gore hound but I found the flying blood and severed torso’s and such to be more awesome than awful. Image has some more #1’s coming at us. I can’t afford for them to be awesome but I suspect that won’t stop anything.

New to The Stack (which is by no means a negative reflection):

Deadpool #28. Part one of four is all I needed to see on the cover. I have the normal cover. There is a more awesome cover out there with ‘Pool-as-Venom that I did not get. I’m sure I’ll get to my love/hate of variant covers eventually.

Nightwing #16 Normally I get to this book pretty quick. This week my copy was damaged. I get the variant cover so it was either buy the wall cover or wait. My budget is limited. I wait.

Also on The Stack:

The Walking Dead # 161 I think. It’s the quarter issue but I don’t follow the book so…

The Old Guard #1. Looks good and is only a time-budget that has delayed my reading. THANKS wife, kids, pets and friends.

Optimus Prime #4: These feel longer than the average comic book. I really enjoy the artwork so far so I also spend a little extra time staring at the pages.

Bastard Rising

I did that thing where I remember I have a blog.

2017...am I right?

I've been going over some of my article-post-things that I never completed for whatever reason and have decided to push myself a little more to post more.

I am a semi-active comic nerd and have decided to write little review-esque little blurbs on the issues. I have a couple of ideas of where I might eventually send them but in the meantime I am going to post them here.

I'll also get some of my bar stories written to completion too.

I work at a comic book store and a bar (but not as a bar tender). Before that I worked with teenagers for six years.

Such will be the tales from the bastard's mouth.

...probably.

Twenty Year Kiss

I kissed this girl, you see.

She wanted me to, there in her room in the basement. I was not an expert on making out by any stretch of the imagination but I had been spending a lot of time with this girl.

She was a little nervous and when I had moved closer and leaned in because of the motion—not because I was making my Official Move, she had looked down at the last second to scratch her nose on her hands.

It was the giggly sort of nervous. I was sitting on the floor and she was lying on her bed, our faces close enough it would the smallest adjustment to my posture and our lips would meet.
She paused mid-sentence to think of a word. She was distracted enough I moved in and brought our faces together.

We kissed and I must have blinked or something because now it’s twenty years later. She stayed awake and made sure to tell me it was officially twenty years. I always remember the date but somehow I forget she likes to start at midnight. I joke that it was much later in the evening by the time we kissed.

I know twenty years is nothing to sneeze at but also celebrating things extra because it’s a round number seems arbitrary to me. Don’t get me wrong—I love the number ten and sure it’s neat when it can cleanly be divided into a number (and don’t even get me started about the number five!) but I’m not sure it’s the kind of thing that propels one into a partying frenzy.

When people ask what we’re doing to celebrate I say, “Stay married. Probably.” But we like to sit around and make plans for the future that will some someday, somehow involve just us. Her and me trying to get a jump on the future version of “us” that does not inherently include our daughter and son. We are planning on being the youngest old people ever.

Secretly we have started putting our change and spare dollars into a jar to someday buy an RV. She’ll drive. I’ll write. Maybe find a nice campground to tend for a summer...

When people ask what the secret is I tell them there isn’t one secret, really. Maybe it’s because she is co-dependent and too forgiving and I am an irritable bastard who feels less irritable around her.

It’s certainly rare to find someone who doesn’t make me itch like people do; even people I proudly admit to loving can say or do something and bottom line is it makes me feel like the only way to get a good scratch in is with some distance from them. That I found such a person with boobs and a fetish for bastards is not a card you can expect to be dealt twice.

No one is perfect and I’m positive enough to hope my cynical nature helped preserve my marriage when times where tough. I could tell myself that it folly to think there was such a thing as a perfect fit. I’ve met what seemed like a perfect couple and seen them not only get divorced but they end their marriage in such a way that jaws drop. And while my wife is certainly capable of driving me crazy I’ve never thought there is a female out there who would drive me less crazy. I mean, I’m a bastard but people like me—I hear their stories. If you say “adult” to me I silently add the word “dysfunctional” before it.

And I also know I’m not mounted high up on a horse named Functional. I’m what I’d like to call mostly functional. I know funds are low and rent is always due. But I also got the night off to go do something. Even if I’m not sure what we will be doing blowing off work seems like the thing to do, and is there for responsible.

Board Game Bastards

A buddy of mine owns a game store in town. He heard I quit my job at the boarding school and called me to see if I could work for him at all in August. My plans in August were basically work less. But, I like the guy and don't mind the store and it's always nice to be considered valuable before an exchange.

I work four hour shifts. The nerds wander in to get their Yu-Gi-Oh, Pokemon and oh-god-yes, Magic the Gathering fix. Most of them are adults (at least in the sense they are over 18 and will be prosecuted as such) 

Today a nerd came in to look at our Yu-Gi-Oh cards, which of the many cards available is least popular and mostly fueled by grown adults. He was definitely an adult. He looked and found some cards he wanted to add to his collection and while I was ringing him up there was a bit of that awkward brand of silence.

I usually have a beard in various stages of beardiness. It is getting fluffy but no where near what one would call "epic." The customer also had a beard.

"I like your beard," he said. 

I checked our little credit card terminal. It was receiving. If his account had the funds he and his approval would be on their way. 

"What this old thing?," I said but I had no opinion on his facial hair. 

"I wish my mom would let me grow mine out like that."

I glanced up. I had made a bit of a funny and I thought maybe he was too. His face, though, was very serious.

"Yeah, my mom's cooler than yours I guess," was all I could come up with since I imagined laughing outright in a customer's face would be frowned upon and kicking them out of the store and back to mom's basement for being a walking, talking stereotype was not an option.

Married Bastard

At 37 I've been married for 19 years.

That's over half my life. People assume I'm good at relationships because I have longevity. I guess it would be insulting if people heard how long I have been married and the typical reply was, "Whoa! Which one of you is codependent?"

They say the three biggest points of contention that tend to put married folk on the road to divorce are sex, money, religion/politics. You can put them in what ever order you please (and of course they are not the only potentially poisonous subject.

Mrs. Bastard and I tend to share opinions and attitudes.

I think one of aspects for marriage is accepting life as sometimes dull and routine. Sometimes sex (o' silly hyped up, over focused, sex!) can't always be amazing and hot. I think there is something beautiful when I am interrupted mid-sentence with, "Could we have some sex, maybe?"

Questions like that tend to bleed the interruption of its offensiveness.

And then I say, "No! I want to finish my stupid work story!"because stories need finishing.

And then she crosses her arm and pouts. Until the end of the story, that is.

And then later when she's says, "Don't move."

And I ask, "Did I find a good spot?"

And she replies, "No. I found a back zit. I'm going to gittit."

You don't question it. You wince from the pinch and inconsequential lost of body fluid the zit that just got gitted with the confidence that this is happy road of marriage; littered though it may be with offhand comments and interruptions one must be careful labeling--with terms like "silly," for example.

Boom.

Marriage.

One word, incomplete sentences (not this one).

Employed Bastards

What's the worst part about working with teens?

Adults is the funny answer.

But really though, it's the adults. 

I decided to end my stint working with teens. It was not easy. I get along fantastically with teenagers for whatever reason but it was time I pushed past that emotional connection with the kids and moved on.

 

Two jobs at both ends of the day's spectrum was making it hard for me to sleep. My body goes by that invisible clock and I tend to wake up at the same day every day. Four months of waking up at 7a.m. and going to bed around 2:30a.m. wore a bastard out and when I sat down at the end of the day the boarding school job fell short for too many reasons. I will probably get to some specifics but I don't want to go on and on about how quickly a good thing can turn bad.

Working at a bar has shown me if nothing else it does not pay much less to be in charge of much, much less. I'm already sleeping in later which for me is usually a long process. 

Working one job will be nice for a minute. I have my eye on a part time day job--the easy sort you get minimum wage for but also will be a good experience that lasts about a month but will get you a discount on comic books.

Southern Utah Bastard--No, Really

I was out with my wife in celebration of our 19th wedding anniversary. I was thinking--I'm 37 and I've been married over half of my life. But also my wife and I were both craving taco salads. Lots of lettuce, grilled chicken on a freshly deep fried tortilla and mixed together with sour cream a guacamole. Damn yes.

My wife had a glass of wine with her meal. We were too full for dessert. We sat hoping to digest enough to get dessert but we had other places to get to before we returned to the homestead and our little half bastards (born within wedlock to a full blooded bastard = half bastard). During our optimistic sitting two moms and a whole bunch of children walked in. They were not the empowered lesbian minivan family. This was two separate moms with mean creases in their faces. They sat down and spoke openly of their very, very limited budget. One of the smaller babies threw a handful of chips onto the ground. I saw our server wince.

"They are not going to tip her shit." My wife said quietly for just me. Utahns are not known as generous tippers in the first place but she has been in the business for awhile. She has the eye of the server. She had worked in Nevada where servers would fight over who had to wait on the people about to come into the restaurant from the car with the Utah license plates.

We got our check and she nudged me. "You should give her something extra." She was telling me because I had the cash in my pocket. The card I paid with was the account both of our checks went into.

I put two five dollar bills with my card and we paid. We were full, in good spirits and in the mood to spread the wealth. Our server ran my card and looked at the cash in confusion.

"Did you need change?" She asked.

"Nope. All for you." I smiled.

"It's our anniversary," my wife said.

"Are you from around here?" Our server asked.

I laughed. I had been in born and raised in southern Utah. My wife and I met in high school.

"We are. We've both worked for tips, though."

I looked over my shoulder where one of the mothers was jabbing at the menu one of her small children was holding--he was getting one enchilada, not two. "It can be rough." I tapped my heart with my fist.

My wife wished her luck and on the way to the car we joked about what a compliment it can be to have people thing you must not be from around here.